


Wrath Deterred

by Quartzitedecadence



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I think about this a lot I do, Platonic Relationships, Recovery, Spoilers for TAZ:Balance, Team as Family, The rest of the IPRE crew is mentioned, this whole fic is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 05:18:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15599148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quartzitedecadence/pseuds/Quartzitedecadence
Summary: Davenport was aware he deserved wrath after all these years. Losing himself. His family. He knew who was at fault, but she was his family too. For some reason, it was getting increasingly hard to get angry at Lucretia.She deserved his anger, but he had none for her. He didn't understand why.





	Wrath Deterred

Davenport was finding it increasingly  _ harder _ to be angry at Lucretia.

 

The Day of Story and Song was a few weeks back, but he was still at the bureau, looking over the adjustments and repairs everyone did. They belonged here. There was a queasy feeling in his stomach because people had seen him in his most vulnerable state, but for the most part, the members of the Bureau of Benevolence greeted him as a friend. In those situations, the captain didn’t quite know what to do, yet replied with his shaky voice.

 

His voice wasn’t supposed to be this unstable. He had managed to quell his slight stuttering as a young adult before this hullabaloo began. However, after the decade of being rendered unable to say anything but his name without extreme difficulty, some things seemed to revert back this his childhood days. Sometimes Davenport was terrified that when he opened his mouth he would only speak his name and nothing more. In any case, at least he was improving much faster than he was in his youth.

 

And it hadn’t come to pass that this situation was not the fault of the crew’s chronicler because it  _ was _ her fault. It was her fault that this whole situation had transpired. It was her fault that he became a useless gnome with no more words than his name. It was her fault that Taako would probably never forgive her. Barry could have lost his soul, Lup could have been trapped in her staff forever. It was  _ her _ fault they were separated, and it was  _ his _ job as their captain to keep them together.

 

He deserved a bit of wrath. They all did after the century of running to survive and losing each other near the end of their journey. It sufficed to say he was glad this whole event was over. It didn’t make sense why it also felt like something was gone.

 

The mission was his whole life, he worked and worked and worked for that mission to be approved. To research the planes beyond with his hand-selected crew. Now it was all over. His life’s mission done. That left him speechless.

 

But there were numerous repercussions brought unto this planet because of them, and the captain felt guilty for deciding to take the Starblaster to explore this world. It only was correct because he should journey this planet for as long as he could, watching over everyone and assisting with their problems.

 

Davenport knew he can’t help everyone, but he’ll protect those he can at the moment which included his crew who were residing in the same bureau until things settled. However, the gap among all of this crew was enormous after the years apart. There were times Davenport didn’t know how to act amongst his own crew. His own crew who had been with him for nearly a century, yet everyone seemed to change so fast within a few years. Maybe it’s because their memories have been jumbled when they left each other. However, the captain could always see most of his crew slapping each other on the backs, joking around, and working together as they did before.

 

There was one person who was consistently missing. Her name was wasn’t taboo. But after what she did, most of them weren’t too inclined to get near her. Davenport would  _ try _ to welcome her since she was his member. His family. Lucretia took the other end of the stick and busied herself with the repairs of this world without bothering to greet the others. With one person missing, his family just seemed incomplete. 

 

Davenport didn’t blame them for being angry at Lucretia, hell, he was angry at her himself. However, his mind continued to go back to the times right after she fed Fisher their history of the mission. She had so much trouble trying to sleep at night in contrast to her fierce facade that dripped gravitas.

 

Those nights were hazy, in fact, everything, before he got his memories back, was the same with the static, but he was grateful for the small moments of lucidity. He recalled Lucretia silently weeping in the room near him. His mind wasn’t as intelligent, although he understood that the woman was frightened.

 

Now realization hit that she was alone without any of her family to help her. The fate was brought unto her because of her actions. It didn’t mean she was not filled with rue from losing those close. He was there with her, unable to help. His presence seemed to soothe her and she would apologize with the crowd of static that hurt his head. It wasn’t enough. The child would sob and sniffle, her hands shaking while wrapped around her legs like she wanted everything to be over.

 

Compared to him, Lucretia was a child. She joined his crew at the age of eighteen, and he’d be surprised if she came out of the perils unscathed.

 

No one came out unscathed.

 

Merle Highchurch died numerous times performing parlay that he feared death and tended to walk on the safe side when possible, although his demeanor wouldn’t say so. Perhaps he worried about The Hunger, John, too. Davenport never asked. Merle will tell him in due time.

 

Magnus, bless his enormous heart, yearned to save everyone, risking his own life in the process until Fisher arrived. To him, anyone he didn’t save was his failure. There were times that Magnus Burnsides had an outburst and everyone tried hard to console him. Their deaths were in his hands. He tried saving people using the Starblaster once, they disappeared. He was mortified. The deaths haunted him.

 

Taako regarded people as if they weren’t sentient after many cycles. He did continue to care for crewmates since they remained the constant in his life, but everyone else was going to turn to ash. Taako barred himself to remain unharmed, adding to his already cautious nature. Why have connections if they were all going to be dust? When will he see them again either? Those seemed to be his philosophy. Forgetting his sister assisted none.

 

Lup was headstrong. She began taking riskier chances because if they did nothing for the plane it could disappear and they would be at fault. It destroyed her whenever her little brother perished, albeit it was common knowledge that he would come back. She became more protective, perhaps obsessive, it never went that far. The wizard despised losing her family. She couldn’t lose them.

 

Barry Hallwinter (or Bluejeans after Lup noticed his fondness for wearing the titular item) was probably one of his member who matured the most, despite being the oldest of the humans. Looking at his file, Barry didn’t have much lose before joining the Starblaster. He was a tentative scientist who labored for his experiments days and night. The man grew attached to fear. Davenport had come to know that when passing by his room and see the poor man flinch and shove his hand into his pocket for his wand.

 

Lucretia changed. Not like the rest of them. She changed drastically after Cycle 65, one Davenport didn’t live long enough to oversee. Everyone died except Lucretia in that Cycle. She had to live the year alone along with beings obsessed with subjecting her to judgment. A judgment that the captain reasoned as the opposite. He was sure they all deserved the sin of wrath at that point, getting killed without even trying.

 

After that one confession about the Cycle when they came back, the writer refused to sit back, much less talk about her endeavor. It hurt less to talk, but she didn’t do that. The woman reigned everything she could into her control, speaking up, taking the initiative, things she was loath to do before. People treated her as someone else because she acted as someone else.

 

One of the things that made her Lucretia was her journals. She never gave up writing.

 

Since she never gave up writing, she was able to feed the records of their whole adventure.

 

Davenport found it unfair. They have told her to be patient. They have told her that her plan will risk a whole planet, a planet that so similar to the first one they all lived in. This whole planet that was now their home.

 

But the idea the crew decided to execute made the world suffer. Maybe they should’ve done Lucretia’s plan. Maybe the guilt wouldn’t crush them so. They released the seven Grand Relics and instigated the Relic Wars. The damage to the world was so visible. If they did Lucretia’s plan, the world would cease to be. That damage can’t be undone.

 

The gravity of the situation hit them hard. Everyone coped with it in their own way such as cooking, writing, distracting… anything to not remind them of the hardships that laid beyond. Guilt was drowning all.

 

She made them forget because she couldn’t bear their suffering yet it all of their faults. It was all of their responsibility to fix it. The Hunger needed to be defeated first for the planes to live in peace.

 

Lucretia acted first, feeding all their memories together. When the memories were gone, no one was the same. They lost who they were. All except Lucretia who bore the weight of their sins on her lone shoulders, even if he, Davenport, was with her. Davenport, then, had the mindset of a child, one that didn’t know any better. He didn’t know what the woman was telling him other than the fact that she seemed more at ease after her outbursts when she spoke the static.

 

Looking back at his memories, the captain couldn’t distinguish her words of static. That bothered him more than it should. Was he forgetting? He couldn’t be forgetting. Junior returned his memories. Something was tugging at his gut. Was it anger? Was it sympathy?

 

Was it the reason why he found himself in front of Lucretia’s office door?

 

The woman made herself scarce to the rest of them, though most of them didn’t want to deal with her at least for the moment. Magnus seemed to be heading through her door a couple of times. The rest, Davenport didn’t know. Merle was an enigma. It would definitely take Taako a while to saunter in or Lup or Barry for that matter. Barry and Lucretia  _ had _ been butting heads for years here to accomplish either goal.

 

Davenport had a compelling urge to turn around and, well, book it, but he had taken the duties of a captain. It was his duty to see to his crew, was it not?

 

He knocked on the door.

 

There was no answer. Did he not knock loud enough? Was Lucretia absent right now? Perhaps he was late. It was quite daft to think that the director was up and running at this time.

 

However, his ideas were unfounded when a low but authoritative voice resounded from the other side of the door with a “Come in.”

 

The door opened with no resistance. Through the door, behind the desk dusted with paperwork was the director of the Bureau of Benevolence, the woman the gnome had been under the care for most of his time in this plane. For some reason, Davenport was expecting to see a radiant young woman, her short hair tucked behind her ears as her eyes glimmered at the world. The woman would be in her red robes of the IPRE, clean and unruffled, using both hands to write in various notebooks. She would reveal a gentle, encouraging smile as her greeting. A youthful smile wishing for her companion’s safeguard.

 

What was he thinking? The greeting Davenport received was an expression of pure disbelief from a woman who shouldn’t be like this, a contrast of the portrait on her wall. The director was an aged woman, the wrinkle lines on her face were defined but not too many. She held herself stiff and sported the short hair of a pixie cut. Her robes were ornamental as if proving her authority over the workers of the bureau. There were bags under her eyes. It unnerved her captain that he didn’t see the glimmer of wonderment in her pale blue eyes.

 

Whenever he saw the director, he couldn’t see her as a director just a journal keeper. The chronicler of the Starblaster. 

 

He took a shaky breath. Licking his lip, he decided to grace her with a slight smile if not a little forced. Really, all he was expecting was an easy conversation rather than finding the words to place into his own mouth that used to speak fluently with her. 

 

Unclenching his fist, he exhaled. “Hey… Hey Lucretia,” His voice came out as a subconscious whisper before growing louder. The floor was more comforting than the chronicler’s expression, smooth and familiar. Davenport steadied his eyes to stare at her, his hands were close to clenching again.

 

The woman’s lips quivered then her jaw set. Her hand tightened around the pen and she straightened herself. “I… I wasn’t aware that you were coming here. Is there something I can help you with?” 

 

Davenport assumed his years of naivety under the care of Lucretia allowed him to catch the faint dip in her stoic tone. For that, he was grateful. That means he was able to understand the director. Not as much as before, but a little was golden for now. His hands fell to his sides.

 

“Actually, yes, th-there is, if you wouldn’t mind coming outside with me,” Davenport said. He didn’t know where he was going with this. 

 

“With… you?”

 

“With me.” This time the undertone of authority was in his voice as he decided to ignore his member’s bemusement. “I have questions for you.”

 

The woman gazed at her papers and then stood up, “I- yes, I suppose I owe you that.”

 

“G-good,” Davenport turned towards the door.

 

The corridors on the moon were his home for years. Though, those years were blurry. He could feel his way out of the rooms and he didn’t look back for Lucretia. Her steps were careful and articulate, heard in the quiet of the bureau in the night. Even if Davenport was not able to hear her footsteps, he knew the woman would follow her captain.

 

He led her to an isolated place. He didn’t quite understand the physics of this moon yet, but he was pleased to see the stars. They could always see the stars on the moon. However, it was difficult to discern the immediate time on planetside unless the clocks counted.

 

Regardless, before them stretched the plane, full of various constellations and stars. With his studies, Davenport could name many of the things residing in the plane. One of the more comforting constants after leaving his home planet yet each plane’s space also seemed unique. When the Hunger won, a star disappeared.  It hits him that he never stopped to stargaze here. A hobby that he treasured for relaxing and sharing.

 

His gaze traced the constellations. Ursa Major. Noctua. Lupus. There were so many questions to ask. Where to start. What to say.

 

“Captain Davenport?” She shuffled beside him.

 

“Why can’t-” No, he  _ couldn’t _ begin with  _ that _ . “How have you been?” 

 

“Huh? Oh, I’ve been better, but I guess that’s a given.” The woman chuckled. “There are things to do. And I feel that if I finish them, there will be more waiting for me. And you?”

 

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking the questions?” Canis Major, always faithful to illuminate the night. In reality, like in recent times, he didn’t know how to react. “Are you still writing? Wait, no, that’s a stupid question. No need to answer that.” Lucretia would never give up writing if Davenport knew her well from her journals in her inventory.

 

She didn’t object to his assumption.

 

The two were stranded in an uneasy silence. The tension was palpable. Then Lucretia broke the quiet. How she came in running first nowadays. At least she put the thought into it.

 

“Davenport, I understand that you didn’t come to ask me about pleasantries. Please get to the point. You know I had a reason for what I did. I wouldn’t have done it if there was a better solution. You have every right to be angry at me for what I’ve to you. To all of you.” She said.

 

She opened her mouth when the gnome didn’t give a response, “Dav-”

 

“Why…?” Davenport faced Lucretia and continued before she spoke. “That’s why. Why can’t I be angry at you?” It was the question that was eating at him for days. And he didn’t know what compelled him to ask it in the first place because as the captain he was so used to putting his feelings second. That was the reason why he hadn’t done anything risky or have an outburst. He was the one in charge and he had to prove that he was in charge of himself too.

 

Asking her ‘why’ just didn’t cut it. He knew her reasons to try to comprehend them. It frightened him that he can relate. He wouldn’t want his crew to suffer for what occurred. It was his fault that this journey even started. Did he apologize yet?

 

His memory after the Voidfish incident hadn’t been reliable. It faltered sometimes, though the moments of clarity were there. He started writing again as to not forget. Forgetting was a scary thought.

 

Oh, how he yearned for everything to calm down after the Day of Story and Song, but with a life like his, he doubted there would be any normalcy. There were days that he wished that his death was permanent in previous Cycles. Dying wasn’t ideal nor was the reciprocal that came after.

 

She froze. When she dispelled herself out of the stupor, she shook her head, eyes downcast. “I can’t answer that.”

 

“Yeah, I was expecting that.” Was he? The stars took his attention. Each unique with a story behind them. All useful when navigating the beyond the planes. “Remember when we used to look at the stars?”

 

Lucretia hesitated but then she hummed in confirmation. “You always seemed to remember all the stars. You pointed them out to me whenever there was a lull in work.”

 

There was that one team-bonding exercise that Davenport initiated to attempt the others’ hobbies since they were jumping from plane to plane for who knows how long and never truly knowing each other. Taako had given them clothes to try out. Merle showed them how to take care of plants, much to the chagrin of Taako. Lup took them sightseeing, although she never stood in one place. Barry had a keyboard on the ship and taught them to play. Barry was no doubt the best out of all of them. Lup coerced Magnus to reveal something other than training _ or rushing in _ , so he brought his paintbrushes and a canvas to perform some strokes. It doesn’t miss Davenport’s eyes that Magnus had bottles of nail polish splayed around his room. Lucretia brought out one book for each member and supplies for scrapbooking. 

 

The scrapbooks were rather adorable, each with an individual personality.

 

When Davenport didn’t reveal any hobby, they kind of ganged up on him. They didn’t outright impose on him, but he could feel their stares and it was just like public speaking all over again. Until someone asked about the stars, was it Merle? Merle asked him, “Why don’tcha show us the stars, Dav?” The captain was tentative but it was a logical solution. Taking a breath, the captain led his crew outside to the bow of the ship where the stars gleamed and twinkled.

 

He tensed when he heard someone criticized the stars as they were nothing. It was a thought. No one made fun of him. His crew urged him to name them by pointing at specific ones. Davenport answered. To him, stars were all distinct, all with different attributes and uses. Other than using the lights to navigate, he admired them.

 

That event caused Lucretia to approach him and request that he help her label the stars. He consented. The two of them bonded over the phenomenon of the universe. She described the stars in her journal, everything Davenport knew about them.

 

“Where’s Columba?” the chronicler said.

 

Davenport frowned. He gazed at the remnants of the constellation, missing Phact, the brightest star in it. Astonishing how a missing star could transform a formation. “It’s been gone since Cycle 66, I guess? It’s somewhere near that time.” He said. His logs said something about it, he’ll examine it later.

 

When the Hunger became victors over the crew in retrieving the Light of Creation, the next Cycle loses a star. That was the first thing he noticed when the ship entered the second Cycle. It was inevitable. Constellations were like families. When one star disappeared, the rest lose their way. The stars were incomplete.

 

Lucretia stopped describing the stars or stargaze after her lonely Cycle, so it was up to Davenport to keep watch on them. Stars exploded, yes, but it wasn’t fucking the same as being devoured by the Hunger. Someone needed to remember them when one was gone.

 

“Did- What else disappeared?”

 

As if he _ would _ forget the stars. He pointed to the voids in the constellations and identified them in the order they were devoured. Each lost star was their failure. A constant reminder. Davenport didn’t linger on that train of thought.

 

“It’s a shame,” she said. “If only we knew what to do, then none of this would have happened.”

 

“But we didn’t. We didn’t know any better,” the captain said. “However, I am proud of my crew. We did what we could and while everyone acted frivolously sometimes, we survived. We saved the planes.”  Then he stared at the chronicler, “We did it... and we couldn’t do it without you.”

 

Without Lucretia, they wouldn’t have saved the planes. Maybe they would have with an alternate solution. What’s done is done. It was over now. Davenport will admit it but...

 

Lucretia huffed, “I didn’t. If Taako didn’t- If he didn’t tell me to form a barrier around the Hunger then I- this plane would’ve been doomed. I could’ve- I could’ve!”

 

“That’s enough, Lucretia,” He said. His tone demanded he has her attention. Her mouth stood agape then shut. He nodded. “I’m glad we’re understood. Nonetheless, you did what you thought was best, and while I don’t agree with your methods, you saved the planet.”

 

The woman stared before she gripped the railing with her eyes cast to the sky, “Not without you. Not without Taako, Barry, Lup, Merle, Magnus, or you. If you didn’t stop me. Oh, gods- I’m so, _ so _ sorry.” Her voice just cracked.

 

If the circumstances were different, Davenport would’ve hugged her, comforted her, told her that it wasn’t her fault. He turned his eyes to the same sight that his member could see. His hands clasped together, rubbing tiny circles. His heart ached. “It’s…” It’s not fine. He wasn’t angry. He was upset. “I don’t forgive you, Lucretia.” He whispered. “I can’t excuse you for what you have done. Forgiveness might come in the future, but not now. I can’t.”

 

To forgive and to forget. He forgot to forgive before. Now he remembered to not. Nothing can excuse her actions. Her behavior was honorable. Yet he lost himself because of her. His family got hurt because of her, losing themselves as well. She was his family. She will always be his family. She didn’t deserve  _ his _ forgiveness yet.

 

“I don’t...” she sighed. “I’ll accept that.”

 

Davenport felt his lips quirk. Lucretia was stubborn, but she dealt with him and he was worse. 

 

His sight landed on a flash of light that seemed to be falling to planetside. It filled him up with dread until he realized it was a normal phenomenon. A met-

 

“Davenport, did you see that?” His companion said, “It’s a shooting star.”

 

“No, tha-” Davenport paused. Lucretia had the intelligence to tell between the wishfulness a shooting star and the realism of a meteor. The descending light was bright red like the old robes they adorned with pride. “I saw, I don’t think I’ve seen a red shooting star in a while. Do you want to make a wish?” 

 

“Yes, yes, I do.”

 

Davenport wanted to laugh at this incredulous event. They were over a hundred years, and they  _ both _ wanted to make a wish. What a childish idea. Children saw the best in the universe. Adults needed to do more of that.

 

When the lull in their conversation was prominent, Davenport closed his eyes and wished. He wished for no one to ever deal with what his family. He wished that everything would be okay. He wished he could forgive. He wished that his family would be okay. Was it selfish to be wishing this much?

 

He glanced at Lucretia. She was holding her hands to her chest and her eyes shut. Then she opened her eyes, “What did you wish for?”

 

“Now, Lucretia… I wished for a lot of things. What was  _ your _ wish?”

 

Her lips twitched, “That’s a secret.” Her mouth was in that familiar smile of her youth.

 

And Davenport knew.

**Author's Note:**

> I think about this a lot.
> 
> I can see Davenport get angry at many things, but as a captain, he is skilled in reigning it in.  
> His crew has done various things, that he learned to just, not overlook it, but react accordingly. The journey probably caused him to ignore regulations, and it makes sense that he would because his first objective is to keep his crew safe. 
> 
> He can control his wrath, and while I understand that he could get angry at Lucretia. He has known her for years that the angry wasn't there. He was upset. Upset, but he couldn't just forgive Lucretia for what she did.
> 
> Also please consider Lucretia adopting the same mannerisms as Cap'nport when she became the director because she didn't know people in authority personally other than Davenport, who she knew for over a hundred years give or take.
> 
> I spent a long time on this. This is self-indulgent, but I love it.


End file.
